


Georgia on my Mind

by janus_74 (tanner)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanner/pseuds/janus_74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had called her up a week ago, wondered if she had everything in place for her new assignment and if she would like to help him look over a house he inherited in Georgia.  She should have hung up on him, but she knew he wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t trouble him just a little bit to go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Georgia on my Mind

**Author's Note:**

> For seren_ccd in the McCoy/Chapel fic exchange who said: I love the idea of either or both of them being from the south and visiting their old homes on shore leave. So anything set on a shore leave back on earth would be fun!

The farmhouse was tucked under two sweeping trees, branches as wide as they were tall. Overgrown grasses and shrubs were starting to encroach on the front of the house, but she could see that, despite the current neglect, it was once a well cared for and charming home.

One that McCoy was currently trying to force the front door open. Apparently it had an old fashion bolt lock on it in addition to the remotely activated locks that they were used to.

He had called her up a week ago, wondered if she had everything in place for her new assignment and if she would like to help him look over a house he inherited in Georgia. Team building he said, trying to convince her she should come. She should have hung up on him, but she knew he wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t trouble him just a little bit to go back.

More to the right of friends than not. Colleagues off and on for years; sometimes in each others pocket, so close she knew him better than herself. Other times; millions of light years apart, with an occasional consultation for a research paper. Lovers once, so very long ago. And this, unfortunately, was the most normal relationship she’s had in a long time.

So what was she doing using up the last days of her precious shore leave - when she really should be packing for her _5 year_ mission on the Enterprise - here, in Georgia, in the heat of the summer?

He finally forced the rusty lock open, smirked in that way of his and held the door aside for her.

Right. Lovers once, so very long ago.

She sighed. If it wasn’t for some colossally bad timing, one crazy-ass engagement to a robot man and unfortunately antiquated fraternization regulations she was sure it would have been something more.

~*~

They spent a couple of hours wandering around the farmhouse and she was amazed at how someone had managed to incorporate so many of the modern conveniences and still keep the feel of a home from the past.

“You had this place long?” she asked as she fiddled with the window shade controls, attempting to let some more sunlight into the living room.

“Since ‘57”, he said absently picking up a cover.

She stopped and turned towards him, “and you’re just visiting now?”

“Wasn’t sure if the ex-wife would take it too. Her breathin’ the same air as grand dad and all. Half expected her to be moved in when we got here.” He pulled at another sheet and uncovered a large overstuffed bookcase. “Besides, we were kind of busy at the time. Saving the planet again.” He rolled his eyes.

She knew how much it annoyed him to be the good doctor aboard the famous Enterprise, “I have it on good authority, you’ve only saved the planet twice.”

“That you know about.” he cut her off.

“Twice.” she said firmly and watched as he finished uncovering an antique dining room table and chairs. He balled up the covers and handed them to her as he squeezed by enroute to the kitchen.

“You may be my new head nurse,” he leaned in and whispered, his breath against her cheek giving her goosebumps, “but some things are still classified.”

She swatted at him good naturedly as he retreated into the kitchen. “You got anything to eat or drink in this place? All of this work has made me famished.” she called out in her best southern belle accent and laughed at the indignant huff that came from the back of the house.

She wandered out the back door onto a wrap-around porch she thought only existed in movies and old pictures. She could imagine sitting on an old fashion porch swing, rocking gently, watching the clouds pass by but sheltered from the sun and the heat. Then, in the evening, coming outside to watch the stars flicker against the black of the sky while the sounds of the night played in the background.

The creaking of wooden floorboards warned her he was coming. No squeaky floors on a starship, she mused.

He came up beside her and leaned against the railing, oblivious or uncaring, to the groan it gave. “Damn I love that view,”

She had to agree with that. “I didn’t expect it to be this quiet.” she said.

“Wasn’t always. Used to be part of a larger city, but the war came and after that there was a rush to see the stars…” he trailed off as he watched a bird fly in lazy circles overhead. She surveyed his profile as he stared up at the sky. She had often wondered, but could never quite ask, about his life right before signing up for Starfleet. Most of what she knew was pieced together from fragments of conversation, usually late at night towards the end of a long shift when his guard was down. The Captain confirmed what she suspected when they were trapped in a cave on an away mission and had ran out of things to talk about. She was furious for McCoy, having to give this all up but she couldn’t help feel a twinge of guilt knowing that they wouldn’t have known each otherwise.

“Anyway”, he pushed off against the railing. “If there was a replicator I can’t find it. How about I take you into town for dinner?”

~*~

The bar was just about how he remembered; a mix of southern roadhouse and stereotypical small town watering hole. Booths lined the sides of the room and circular tables littered the area around a planked dance floor. More people were at tables than not, even as the band was just getting set up, the start of a busy night he thought.

This was not the kind of place you showed up hungry to, he had explained to Christine as they tucked into good home cooking at _Missy’s Diner_. Thirsty? Yes. Thirsty for good bourbon? Maybe not. Hungry? You were better to stop somewhere else.

And yet, for all of that, he found himself relaxing as soon as they walked through the door.

He noticed a familiar face across the room and guided Christine over towards two empty seats at the long shiny bar. After a moment they were noticed and the bartender hurried over wiping his hands on his apron and leaned over to shake hands. “Doctor McCoy! Well, it’s been a dogs age since I saw you around here. Last I heard you got an offer to head up the medical department of one of those starships. Guess that’s something you can’t pass up huh?”

He didn’t like thinking back to those days. Had to escape, had to leave. Get away from the small town that suddenly became oppressive, everyone knowing his business...giving him that look while on the street or in the shops. And then, back in the comfort of their own home, saying how bad they felt for poor Doctor McCoy, his wife running off like that.

He took a swig of the beer that appeared before him, “Something like that.” He felt Christine give him a little kick and looked expectantly between him and the bartender. “Shit, sorry,” he pointed the top of the bottle away from him, “Christine this is Tom, best surgeon turned barkeep in the business and a general pain in the ass. Tom, Christine Chapel, thirty six hours away from being my Head Nurse on the Enterprise.”

“Pleasure to meet you Tom,” Christine said as she shook the older mans hand. “Pain in the ass? Sounds like you’ve had a lot of experience dealing with McCoys exploits then?” she smiled and took a sip of her own beer.

“My exploits? Not me sister, I’m just a casualty of unfortunate choices in friends.” he tipped his head towards Tom. “No offense.”

Tom laughed good naturedly. “None taken,” he leaned in towards Christine, “You known this lout long?”

“Long enough. We were on the Enterprise together for a bit before I went into research.”

“And now you’re back?” he pressed.

She looked sideways at McCoy, “Against my better judgement, yes. This one and the Captain can be pretty persuasive.”

Tom took her hand and held it between his own, “Darlin, if I were him I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure you never left the first time.”

Christine laughed. “Oh you _are_ a piece of work aren’t you.”

Tom nodded with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “ That I am miss.” he said in long drawl.

McCoy groaned and rolled his eyes. He never realized how much Tom and Jim were alike. Twins almost, with 20 years age difference between them. Like babysitting a damn kid sometimes.

“So tell me, Miss Chapel.” Tom was trying to charm Christine into spilling secrets. He knew how this worked. “What’s the craziest caper the Doctor here has gotten into out there in space?”

She paused for a second before a delightful smile spread across her face. “Well…” she started, but then looked over at McCoy who knew exactly where this was heading. She must have read his own face because she wrinkled her nose and shook her head a little. “Can’t tell you that one, I’m afraid.”

“Classified?” Tom said.

“Something like that.” she confessed.

“Fair enough.” he conceded as he cleared the empty bottles away. “Must be hard though, all of the new worlds. I hear you have translators and machines for the language but it must be interesting to deal with the cultures and customs of all those new planets?” He placed two more beers in front of them.

And anatomy, and food and drink. Not to mention the smells. McCoy finished in his head.

Christine laughed, “You have no idea. We have as much advanced scouting as possible, but it’s still difficult. We’ve found that the more notice we have the better but sometimes the smallest thing can cause a huge misunderstanding. We had an ambassador from Calder II swear Doctor McCoy and I were married because he carried my lunch plate to the table for me.”

He’d forgotten about that, damn nuisance too, held negotiations up a couple of days while they tried to figure out what the hell went wrong. “Last time I try to do something nice for you.” McCoy said.

Christine just smiled and took another drink.

“So Len...exactly how many ex wives do you have now?” Tom asked good-naturedly.

“Just the two of us I think. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?” Christine looked at him expectantly.

“No dear,” he replied dryly.

“Of course,” Christine continued. “That wasn’t the only time it happened was it?”

Tom roared at that. “Jesus Len, how many times did you let this lady get away?”

“I didn’t let her get away Tom. It was a misunderstanding.” he felt the frustration creep into his voice.

“How many times?” Tom pressed.

McCoy sighed, he wasn’t getting out of this one easily. “Four.” He said without really having to think about it.

“Three,” Christine corrected.

He looked at her sideways. Christine Chapel was a lot of things, he thought. Brilliant, capable, beautiful and stubborn certainly; but not usually one hundred percent wrong. Especially with her time aboard the Enterprise.

“I think I remember how many times I’ve been accidentally married Doctor.” she cut him off before he could even get the words out.

He glared at her for a long moment wanting to refute her obvious mistake, but he knew that gleam in her eye. She wasn’t going to back down and he was pretty sure whatever she was thinking wasn’t fit for prying bartender ears. “Tom? Do you mind if I dance with my harpy of an ex-wife?”

Tom, who at that point was trying not to howl with laughter, waved him off and started pouring a pint for another regular at the bar.

The band, who was so far playing with more enthusiasm than actual talent, had launched into a slower song popular during his time at the academy. He lead Christine onto the dance floor and after a moment of who-exactly-is-leading-here he let the soothing sounds roll over him, easily remembering the steps and pulling her closer as he maneuvered them into a complex spin. He marvelled, not for the first time, how well they fit together.

“It was four you know.” he said as he guided them out of the way of the whirling masses.

“Hmm,” she said absently.

“Four times, not three.”

She tucked her head against his shoulder, just under his chin. “No it wasn’t.”

Calder II,” he began.

“Yes, and Elas and Thalos VII.”

“And Gedi Prime.” He finished.

She tilted her head up a slight smile spreading across her face. “I knew exactly what I was doing on Gedi Prime and so did you.”

He considered that for a moment, calculating his answer. They were told, repeatedly, about the customs of Gedi Prime. And told, repeatedly, not to drink the ritual evening celebration drink. But he did anyway, a mixture of exhaustion and elation at having found the cause of the infection ravishing the city, and caught her look as she took the cup from his hand and casually took a sip from the same side. Two hours later they were escorted to quarters where they spent the rest of the night in a celebration of a different kind.

One night, all those years ago. One night that still has the power to frequent his dreams.

One night that was never spoken of again.

He pressed his cheek against her head, “You may be right, but officially I can’t confirm it Nurse Chapel.”

“Antiquated fraternization regulations, I know.” He felt her small sigh against his neck and tightened his hold on her waist as a small act of rebellion. He knew the rules, didn’t mean he had to like them.

They swayed together slowly until the last strains of the song ended.

Too soon.

“I am, however, still plain old Christine Chapel for the next two nights…” she bit her lip and nodded towards the door.

It was crazy to think it was a good idea, but then he’s made a career out of bad ideas. Plus he’s heard a rumour that Starfleet was looking into some of the regulations in light of longer deep space missions. Not that it mattered at all when she looked at him like that, he was long gone and they both knew it. “The ex Christine Chapel McCoy,” he corrected as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “And I think I’m going to take you up on that offer ma’am.” he said before kissing her properly.

~*~ The End ~*~


End file.
